


These Hands of Mine

by Gimmemore



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Five Year Mission, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Genocide, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Starvation, Tarsus IV, takes place after TOS episode Omega Glory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 06:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17017371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gimmemore/pseuds/Gimmemore
Summary: Jim’s frustrated he can’t seem to manage to do the Vulcan nerve pinch, even though Spock has tried multiple times to teach him.  When he finds out why he can’t, his world tilts, drowning in memories he wishes he could forget.Takes place during the five year mission, after the episode Omega Glory.





	These Hands of Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

_“Pity you can’t teach me that.”_

_“I have tried, Captain.”_

Jim sighed.  Spock had tried on multiple occasions to teach him the Vulcan nerve pinch, but Jim just couldn’t seem to get it.  And it’s not that humans were incapable; others had been taught successfully.  And the more he thought on it, the more frustrated he became.  There must be something else he was missing, something that prevented him from accomplishing it.

In fact, he’d decided to take matters into his own hands, so to speak.  Determined, he made his way to sickbay and headed straight to Bones’ office.  It might’ve been impolite, bursting in on his friend, but he wanted answers, and this was as good a place to start as any.

“I want you to run some tests on my hands.”

The doc looked up from his console and quirked an eyebrow.  “Well, hello to you, too, Jim.”

“I’m serious, Bones.  I want you to run some tests on my hands.”

“Whatever for?”  Bones squinted, his brow creasing in concern.  “Did you do somethin’ stupid?  Get injured?”  Bright blue eyes turned critical, assessing him from head to toe.  “I didn’t see a report…”

“No, no.  Not that,” Jim quickly assured.  He didn’t want to be in sickbay _that_ long.  Bones could be a little overzealous when it came to Jim’s injuries.  “It’s just…,” Jim sighed.  “Spock’s been trying to teach me to do the Vulcan nerve pinch and I just can’t seem to do it.  My form’s supposedly perfect, but I still can’t manage to do it.”

“Uh huh.  So, you want me to check your hands?”

“Exactly.”

“Jim.  You just had your physical, what?  Five months ago?  And everythin’ was within normal parameters.”

“Bones, please,” he implored, “just do it.”

Bones huffed in exasperation.  “Alright.  I’ll do it.  But tell me, why is this botherin’ you so much?”

“Because I should be able to do it.  And it’d be easier than fighting, give me an edge.  I won’t always be able to get into the scuffles I do now.”

“You shouldn’t be gettin’ into scuffles at all,” Bones grumbled.

Jim flexed his jaw and refrained from rolling his eyes.  “Point is, the nerve pinch could save a lot of trouble.”

“Fine.  But only to prove you’re worryin’ about nothin’.”  Bones stood up from his desk, sweeping his hand in front of him.  “Let’s get this movin’ then, shall we?”

Jim sat through Bones running x-rays, bone density, magnetic imaging, and drawing several vials of blood which took most of an hour to complete.  Unhooking Jim from the last machine, Bones declared, “I’ll run these through and see what I can see.  I’ll comm you when they’re ready and we can celebrate nothin’ bein’ wrong with some brandy.  Now get outta here.”

Jim nodded and left Bones to it.  But Jim wasn’t as confident the tests would come up with nothing, and his growing anxiety at the results made him jittery.  Needing a release for his pent-up energy, he headed straight to the gym.  Perhaps Bones thought he was being paranoid or vain, but Jim was worried.  His health was always something he’d been concerned about ever since...well, ever since.

He was halfway through his third circuit when Bones commed him to come to his office.  Rather than wait, he threw his shirt around his neck and powered through the halls at a brisk pace.  He walked into Bones’ office and noticed that two brandies had already been poured. 

“So?”

Bones answered with thinly-veiled irritation, “Sit down first, will ya?”

Jim’s gut clenched tight, his intuition screaming a warning; Bones was concerned and trying to soften the blow.  He dropped into the chair across from his friend as lead filled his stomach, his heart pounding as the anxiety steadily climbed.

“Well, Jim, your instincts were right, as they usually are.  Your tests did show a small abnormality.”  Bones paused, clearing his throat.  “You’re starting to show signs of bone loss; the bone density in your hands is registering below normal, as I suspect the rest of your body will, too.  My official diagnosis is very early stage osteoporosis, coupled with early osteoarthritis.”

Bones continued, a heaviness in his voice.  Jim could tell he was wary, skittish to deliver the next words.  “I also did some further research and there are numerous studies confirming that malnutrition and starvation, at any point, but particularly before adulthood, increases your chances of bone loss and developing osteoporosis.”

Jim flinched, his body reacting as if he’d been struck, unable to draw a breath.  Then a wave of righteous anger, hot and boiling, crashed over him.  He stood, the chair screeching behind him.

Bones countered, standing just as quickly, with his hand outstretched.  “Now, Jim – “

“No,” he snapped.  “I was supposed to be dead because of my genetic weakness, my inferiority, right?  This is just one more thing to add to the list.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.  This was directly caused by Kodos.  He did this.  This isn’t because you’re weak.”  Bones drew a deep breath, calming his voice as he said, “Plus, there’s lots of things we can do to stop the progression, now that we know.”  Bones pushed a glass of brandy towards him.  “Have a drink.  Sit.  And we can talk about…whatever you want to.”

Jim shook his head, the mess of emotions churning within unfit for conversation.  “I can’t.  Not tonight.  I just.  Later.  Okay?”

“Okay, Jim.  Sure thing.  Later.”  Bones gave him a solemn look, a promise in his eyes.  “I’ll hold you to that.”

Jim grimaced.  “I’ve no doubt.”  He gave Bones a small smile of concession and turned to leave.  He was almost out the door before a thought stopped him dead in his tracks.  He turned in the doorway.  “Bones?”

“Yeah?”

“The younger someone was when _it_ happened, would they have a higher chance of getting osteoporosis?”

“The data supports that the younger the individual, the more complications they could have, yes, but what exactly will present or when, it’s still hard to tell.”

Jim nodded, his face grim.  “Then I want Kevin Riley’s file monitored.  And the extra tests added to check for whatever the research has shown is more likely.  He was so much younger than I was then.”

“I’ll make sure it’s done.”

“But discretely.  Not everyone needs to know he was on Tarsus.  That’s his to share if and when he decides.”

“Of course, Jim.”

“Thanks, Bones.”  And with that, Jim turned, his strides quick and purposeful as he left sickbay.  He needed to get to his quarters, away from everyone.  He needed time alone to process it all.  He needed a shower.  A real water shower, hot enough to pink up his skin and seep into his bones.  Perhaps it would help wash away his darkening thoughts.  Keeping Tarsus buried was something he had worked hard to accomplish, but fate seemed determined to keep bringing it up, conspiring to rid him of his hard-won peace.  It felt as inescapable now as it did then.

He didn’t stop along the way or make eye contact with anyone, instead heading straight for the solace of his quarters.  When the door swished open, he jerked in surprise.  He had forgotten Spock would be here, waiting, as was their routine these days, since they’d become more than just captain and commander.  A part of Jim grew frustrated.  He wanted to be alone, left to deal with his roiling emotions in peace.  But the other part of him knew that Spock was the least invasive person on the ship and his presence, under normal circumstances, was soothing.  But these were not normal circumstances.

He didn’t say anything to Spock, proceeding directly to their joint bathroom.  He stripped, throwing his clothes aside and stood at the small sink, staring at his hands.  They were still his hands, but the bones beneath were now weaker, brittle, easily broken.  He looked up, his reflection in the mirror a mixture of anguish and anger.  Was he weaker?  Easily broken?  Would Tarsus beat him after all?

Jim balled his hands into tight fists, slamming them on the metal, just to feel his nerves reverberating the impact.  No.  NO.  He took a deep breath, determined to beat back the dark thoughts raging within.  This spiral would get him nowhere but another psych eval and a Bones on his ass at every moment.  And he’d been through enough evals as a teenager to last a lifetime.  All he needed was time to clear his mind, so into the shower he went.

How long he stood there, soaking in the cascade of warmth, he couldn’t say; his sense of time lost beneath the calm of the just-this-side-of-scalding downpour.  When finished, his skin was bright red, and all his energy sapped; the heat and the water draining all the tension and anxiety, leeching it from him like a poison.  What settled in its place was mind-numbing fatigue.

He emerged from the bathroom and found Spock in bed, reading, and still waiting.  He looked up as Jim entered, a question in those dark brown eyes.

Jim made no acknowledgement of the question, merely proceeded to his closet, pulled on clean briefs and a t-shirt, and then turned, walking back to climb into bed.  He turned to look at Spock, whose eyebrow was now raised in query.

Jim sighed, an apology in his eyes. “Not tonight, Spock.  I’m too tired.”  Spock inclined his head in acceptance, albeit reluctantly (if Jim read his Vulcan right) and lowered the lights to ten percent, as Jim rolled over and fell asleep, his mind and body exhausted with the weight of Tarsus memories.

~~~~

_It wasn’t just cold anymore.  It was bitter, biting, and frigid.  They had always huddled together for warmth at night, when the chill in the air stole your breath, but now, now it was deep into winter, and the thin, ragged clothes they wore, and the few blankets they’d stolen, didn’t keep them warm enough.  And they’d all lost so much weight, they didn’t have any body fat left; it felt more like bones rattling against bones._

_He and Eric and Tom were the oldest of the bunch, and they always ate less than the little ones, trying to keep them healthy.  It was harder on the little ones.  They didn’t understand empty stomachs and hunger pains, or deal with them as easily as they did.  But even without the fungus, it was wintertime and food was increasingly hard to find.  It didn’t help that the guards were getting wise to their tricks for stealing what they could.  And they were all so tired._

_A snap, followed by violent thrashing, brought his attention to full alert, his heart thudding in his chest.  He shot up from his watch position, waking them all quickly and quietly.  They had run this escape drill over and over, in case this moment ever came, to ease the fear for the little ones._

_But Kodos’ guards arrived too fast, so Jim charged, throwing what strength and weight he had left against the first guard that stumbled through the cave’s opening.  It was not enough.  He was easily overcome; the months of starvation and malnourishment stopping the fight early.  He didn’t have enough in reserve.  He was held down, face first in the dirt, arms yanked back and crossed, squeezed too tight in an iron grip.  He thrashed and struggled as pain built in his forearm until he couldn’t bear it any longer.  He screamed as bone cracked, too brittle from too long on too little._

_“Stop fighting, you mongrel,” the guard spat._

_Jim subsided, his breathing labored, asthmatic, as the pain in his arm radiated throughout his body.  He twisted his head to look back where they all had been sleeping and blew out a pained but relieved breath.  The others had escaped.  He knew Eric and Tom would take care of them all without him.  They’d make it.  They had to._

_He was hauled up then, the pain in his broken arm searing his mind as he cried out.  The guard looked him over, and Jim saw the exact moment recognition gleamed in his eye._

_“Well, well, well.  Look what we’ve caught.  We’ve been looking for you for a long time, haven’t we boys?”  The other guards stood around, with smug, knowing grins on their faces.  “You’ve caused us a lot of trouble, you and your little band of miscreants.”  The guard’s demeanor shifted with malicious, ominous, intent as he leered at him.  “Though you’re an awful pretty one, even for the dirty, filthy cur that you are.  Can’t see why Kodos would want to kill you.  There are much better uses for your kind.”_

_He was quickly pinned again, his broken arm wrenched, pain exploding behind his eyes as his ragged, threadbare clothes were easily ripped away.  All he heard was laughing, laughing, laughing.  That and his screams as agonizing pain consumed him._

~~~~

Jim woke, his body and clothes drenched in sweat, shaking uncontrollably, his throat aching.  Spock’s eyes were wide with shock and concern, one hand on Jim’s shoulder and one on his face, as if he’d been trying to rouse him for some time.

Jim scrambled back, away from Spock’s touch, hugging his arms across his stomach, trying to remember how to breathe.  Fuck, he hadn’t had that nightmare of a memory in a long time.

Spock reached for him, but Jim flinched, shaking his head.  When he found his voice, it was rough and raw.  “Not right now.  Let me just.  I need a shower.”

Spock again said nothing, and watched as Jim stood on shaky legs, stumbling as quickly as he could to the bathroom.  He was nauseous and weak.  He scrambled to the shower, threw on the water, braced himself against the wall, and breathed.

He again found himself losing all sense of time; the heat and the water soothing his raw nerves into some semblance of sanity.  Once he felt he could face what was to come, he stopped the shower, dried off, and took another a deep breath.  He stared at the bathroom door.  He knew Spock would be waiting.

When he’d finally gathered himself enough, he entered his quarters, noting that Spock had left the bed to sit at the desk, his fingers steepled and his eyes closed in light meditation.  Jim went to the closet to put on a fresh set of clothes.  Spock waited, speaking only once Jim was fully dressed.

“You have not had a nightmare about Tarsus in 8.41 months.”

Jim cringed, but turned towards Spock.  “How did you – “

“It is the only subject that has ever made you react so violently.”  Spock’s eyes softened.  “But this one was demonstrably worse than the others.”

Jim blew out a breath.  It was worse.  The worst memory of Tarsus, next to watching four thousand be slaughtered by a madman’s whim.  But did he want to tell Spock how much worse?  He crossed his arms over himself again, the unconscious, protective measure not going unnoticed by Spock.

“Jim,” he began softly, gently, “Post-traumatic episodes can be triggered by any number of things related to your ordeal.  Did something happen to you today?”

Jim really, really did not want to talk about this, but he looked, really looked, into Spock’s eyes and saw no judgement, only concern and love.  And if he couldn’t trust Spock, who could he trust?

Jim walked to the bed and sat on the corner, hands rubbing along his thighs, his eyes staring at them, as if he could see the weakened bones within.

“It, uh, started with not being able to do the nerve pinch.  Even though you’ve tried to teach me.  So, I had Bones run some tests and I – I have the beginnings of osteoarthritis and osteoporosis.  It was caused, brought on by my – my malnourishment as an adolescent.”  Jim began to shake.  “The memory was of…my arm was broken, and I was too weak to…”

“Jim.  Jim, look at me.”  His head flew up, amber eyes meeting warm, brown ones.  “Focus, Jim.  Breathe.  Inhale, one, two, three.  Exhale, one, two, three, four, five.”

Spock talked to him, walking him through the breathing exercises until he stopped shaking.  Then the shame and contempt hit him, at his continued weakness, at dragging Spock into his nightmares.  “I’m sorry, Spock.  It seems no matter what, Tarsus wins, again.”

“This is untrue.  Tarsus did not win.  Kodos did not win.  You survived.  And helped others survive.  That alone proves your strength.  But you have exceeded far beyond that.  You have accomplished much in your short years.  Indeed, without you here, no one aboard the Enterprise would be alive.”  Spock held him with an unwavering gaze.  “Including me.”

Jim sucked in a breath.  A life without Spock?  It was unthinkable.  Spock reached for him then, but Jim couldn’t help but recoil, and immediately cursed himself for it.

Spock withdrew his hand once again.  “If it would be easier for you, I can sleep in my own quarters this evening.  Or for as long as you require.”

“No.  I don’t want you to leave.”  Jim drew another ragged breath, before confessing, “You help.  I just feel…raw.  Oversensitive.  Like the slightest touch would be too painful to bear and I’ll shatter to pieces.”

Spock considered his next words, before quietly stating, “I can help further.  Take the pain and the memories away.  Purge them.  Permanently.”

Jim’s eyes widened.  Gods, how many times had he wished that.  What it would be like to have none of this haunting him, rising up to gut him without warning.  But once the worst of these episodes passed, he always came to the same answer, time after time.  Without his pain, without those experiences, who would he be?  And who he was now?  He’d worked hard for.  He was proud of the man he had become.

Jim finally shook his head.  “No.  I have wished it more times than I can recall, but everything that has happened to me has made me who I am, including Tarsus.”

Spock looked at him in earnest, the intensity and depth of emotions in his eyes staggering.  “Indeed.  And you are cherished for all that you are.”

Jim sighed, and with it, the last of his energy, the last of his fight or flight, left.  He felt hollowed out, empty, drained.  “I’m exhausted.”

“It is to be expected.”  Spock seemed to hesitate as he broached the next topic.  “I can sit here and watch over you tonight.  Vulcans require – “

“Less sleep than humans, I know.”  Jim cracked a small smile.  “But there’s no need for that.  It’s just…I, um, have to be able to move.”  Jim floundered, embarrassment rising as he whispered, “To get away if I need to.”

Spock pondered his words for a moment, before going to the bed, careful to avoid touching Jim inadvertently, and lay on the bed, arms at his side, palms down.  “I can remain like this for the night, or any position you deem necessary to be able to sleep.”

Jim stood, assessing.  It could work.  As long as he wasn’t being held, he could move.  Without thinking too long about it, he climbed in beside Spock, maneuvering himself closer.  Once their skin touched, he felt a small wave of calm descend, and knew Spock was projecting, helping him any way he could.  It reassured him, giving him courage to half drape himself on top of Spock.  Spock kept his arms at his side, one of which was now pinned underneath Jim’s body.  Jim tucked in, safe against Spock, but free to escape.  He knew Spock wouldn’t hurt him, but the apparitions from his memory were still too near.  The guilt hit him then, crushing him.  Spock was not his tormentor, nor his violator, but he was being punished.  They both were.

Jim gasped as a powerful wave of tranquility soothed his mind, followed by understanding and love.  Jim sighed.  What had he ever done to deserve Spock?  Maybe, just maybe, a small touch would be okay.  “You can – you can put your hand on my shoulder.  If you want.”

Spock moved slowly with his free hand, telegraphing his movements, as if he were approaching a spooked, wild animal. His hand lay flat on Jim for several minutes, before asking, “May I run my fingers along your shoulder?  The constant, repetitive motion often helped to calm me as a child when my mother would do so.”

Jim nodded ever so slightly.  He felt Spock’s fingers splay and run back and forth, over and over, from his neck to his shoulder and back again.  Soon, his skin was a numb tingle from the constant stimulation, and a stillness descended, exhaustion settling deep.

It was then Spock started to purr, though Spock repeatedly and stubbornly maintained that it was mere humming.  Regardless, little by little, Jim relaxed; his mind and body breathing in relief and lightened by the dissipation of his anxiety and stress.

Jim mumbled with a yawn, “I know what you’re doing.”

Spock’s soothing strokes stuttered, as did his purr.  “Indeed?”

“Using those energy points to make me feel better.”

“The ley lines, energy channels of the body.  Yes.  Shall I cease my administrations?”

“Mmmmm, no.”  Jim yawned longer, wider, his speech slurring just a bit.  “Just, not too much.”

“As you wish.”  Spock’s strokes and purring resumed, as he murmured, “Now rest, _ashaya_.  I have you.”

Half asleep, Jim knew the truth of those words, felt them sink and burrow into his soul.  “I know.”

Jim’s last thoughts were of green-tinged skin, warm, chocolate-brown eyes, and silky, black hair.  The raw ache and jagged edges of his mind soothed and mended by overwhelming love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake.


End file.
